


Per Ardua Ad Astra

by Rosie_Rues



Category: Doctor Who, Merlin (BBC)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written over at <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/12301.html?thread=10506253#t10506253">kinkme_merlin</a> for this prompt: <i>Crossover, Merlin/Rory - immortal!Merlin meets Rory during The Big Bang and they bond over waiting</i> Spoilers for that episode, naturally, and very minor ones for the send of <i>Torchwood</i> Season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Per Ardua Ad Astra

Merlin knew about the others, of course, about all the sleepers: not just Arthur, but Drake snuggled down in some Sussex hammock, the nameless king under Alderley Edge, and the sleeper under Cardiff's rift (who had also been a memorable back alley shag in 1873, but that was time travel for you). Oh, yeah, and all the time travellers and folks with an unconventional attitude to chronology: Time Lords and Old Ones and that nutter with the DeLorean. Time was full of anomalies, after all, and history did funny things after a while, splintering off and reforming until things which had once been true became impossible (he'd grown tomatoes in his mum's garden once, could remember the sweet tang of them against his tongue, even though historians now would think that was a joke).

There were a few others, though, like Professor Flamel and the Lone Centurion, who were fellow travellers. He tended to avoid them. It was bad enough watching generation after generation age and fade away, without having to see someone else suffer through it too.

But sometimes he got lonely.

The first time he spoke to the Centurion was in 1665. By then, he'd lived through the Black Death and countless smaller plagues, and he couldn't stand to stay in the village where he'd lived for twenty years just to watch them die. He went to London instead, as everyone else fled the capital, and wandered the deserted streets with a peculiar sense of satisfaction. It wasn't often that the whole world felt as bleak as he did.

Then, with a sense of guilt, he thought of Gwen, and did his best to heal a few people. Gaius had taught him well, all those centuries ago, and he'd learnt a little more along the way.

After a while, he wandered along to Gresham College to have a look at the Pandorica. It reminded him of Excalibur, something which undeniably was yet really shouldn't be. Out of curiosity, he poked it in the side, but it didn't react to him, which was odd. Most magical things did, even these days.

That's when the Centurion turned up and told him to piss off.

"Why?" Merlin asked, backing away and trying a smile. His grin had proven useful occasionally over the years. "And, um, you realise your outfit is a little out of date, right?"

The Centurion let out a sigh. "I don't get paid for this. Can't afford new clothes. And who are you, anyway?"

"Merlin," he said brightly, waving his hand. "Yes, that one."

"Bugger," the Centurion said and sat down on the sill of the Pandorica. "Rory."

"Time traveller, immortal or anomaly?" Merlin inquired sympathetically and sat down next to him.

"Bit of them all, really. I'm plastic."

"I'm pretty flexible myself," Merlin said. "For someone who recently hit his first millenia, anyway."

"No, I meant- oh, immortal, then, not time traveller."

"Yeah."

"I'm not shagging you."

"I didn't ask!" Merlin protested.

"Seems to come with the territory."

"Not with me," Merlin asserted. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Me, too. Most beautiful woman in the world."

"Dead or sleeping?"

"In stasis," Rory said and patted the side of the Pandorica fondly.

"Mine's sleeping. Under a hill somewhere."

Rory gave him a puzzled look. "Thought he was married."

Merlin shrugged awkwardly. "Well, yeah. It got complicated."

"Mine too." he sighed and added significantly, "Time Lords."

"Ow," Merlin said. "Hey, I know a place that's still selling decent booze. Want to share a drink?"

"I'm not-"

"Just a drink."

"Yeah," said Rory. "Alright, then. Not sure I can even get pissed, but it's worth a try."

"I'm a sorceror," Merlin assured him. "If anyone can get you pissed, I can."

It wasn't the last time they met, though it never happened very often. Merlin did get himself to London when he saw the story in _The Times_ about the Pandorica being rescued from the Blitz. It took him three days and nights of searching the rubble before he found Rory, a scorched and blistered thing, and weeks of magic pouring out of him, golden in the blackout, before Rory had a face again.

They got very drunk when they could both walk again, Merlin trading on his pilot's uniform to get them black market gin, and traded stories of time travellers and history which had never happened.

"I saw the captain again," Merlin confided, "but he didn't know me. And the Doctor was here. I heard his box."

"He's always here in a crisis," Rory said, lolling back against Merlin's shoulder. "I never realised, you know."

"Realised what?"

"How fucking _shit_ history was."

"Yeah," Merlin said, sucking on the neck of the bottle until his mouth went numb. "Where the fuck's Arthur? This is what he was meant to come back for, right? Unless it's going to get worse."

"You haven't seen nukes yet," Rory said and grabbed the bottle from his hand with a choking sound. "God, she'd better hurry up and get born. And then we can get married in the morning."

"I can't get married," Merlin said sadly. "Never could. Gimme back the booze."

"D'you remember?" Rory said and then stopped, gazing up at the dark sky. "D'you 'member stars?"

"Whassat?" Merlin said. Fucking rotgut was strong.

"Stars," Rory said. "Shining so bright. I remember them. Been to some."

"Stars," Merlin repeated, bewildered. "What are they, then?"

But Rory was laughing, laughing until he cried, and Merlin knew how that felt, even if he didn't understand why.

Seventy years later, when the stars came back, he remembered. He was one of the few who did. For everyone else, the stars had always been there, but he remembered centuries without them, just like he remembered Camelot, which wasn't real any more.

Years went by. There was no more Lone Centurion in London, though the Captain was still around and always good for a night's company. He got used to the occasional sight of the blue box, to the way that humanity went spilling across the stars. He met the Doctor a few times, in New New York, in Elizabeth X's England (he'd hoped Arthur might be there, saving Britain, but not this time, not yet), on Midnight. After a while, he stopped looking for familiar faces on every new world. Britain had ceased to be and Arthur was still sleeping, dreaming his way to the end of time.

Then he met the Centurion again, on the beaches of Barcelona, except that he was just Rory now. Merlin wasn't sure what to say to him, but found himself dragged along to meet the man's wife ("Most beautiful woman in the world, I told you!"), who he found faintly terrifying, and the Doctor.

"Do I know you?" the Doctor asked, frowning at him, all elderly youth and gawkiness. "Or have we not met yet?"

"You don't know me," Merlin said flatly. "Though rumour has it that you might have been me, in another timeline."

The Doctor's eyes widened with delight. "You're Merlin! Amy, it's Merlin. Y'know, King Arthur, Merlin, magic swords, Camelot, all that jazz."

"Hi," said Amy flatly. "Doctor, you promised me beaches."

"They're purple," Merlin offered. "And you'll want to get Factor Alpha-Phiz suncream - nothing else works on Celtic Earth skin."

"Thanks," she says, and seizes the Doctor by the arm before he can wander off. "Beach."

Merlin waved at her and then hesitated on the edge of speech. He needed to know, though, before he endured yet another millennia. "Doctor, does he ever wake up?"

The Doctor looked puzzled, but Rory said, "King Arthur, he means."

"Oh, yes," the Doctor said, flashing him a grin. "In two thousand years or so. Gorgeous bit of history, that."

Merlin didn't know what to say, couldn't quite find the words to ask. Rory tried, but the Doctor was rambling on about New Britannia and the Sontarans. It was Amy who looked him in the eye and said, "Want a lift, then?"

"Yes," Merlin breathed, and let himself wonder what would happen when she met Morgana.


End file.
